


Maybe

by LeashedDemons



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, back to Enemies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeashedDemons/pseuds/LeashedDemons
Summary: "Maybe, the story of you and I." - David Jones.Elijah meets and decides to train a vampire hunter, which quickly becomes complicated when feelings enter the mix. Not all is well in love and war.
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. When I Met You

_Sometimes I sleep_  
_Sometimes I wake._

_Sometimes I speak_  
_sometimes I sigh._

_Sometimes I think_  
_sometimes I don't._

_Today I lived_  
_but one day_  
_I will die._  
_-David Jones._

It was late in the French Quarter – late enough that party-goers had started to wake up and stumble home, wandering through the dark. An excellent evening for vampires to feed, but there was hardly a vampire in sight. While Diana appreciated them all gathering in one place for her, it was still exhausting. She grunted as she was slammed hard against a brick wall by one vampire, barely able to comprehend the impact or it’s effects before he’s trying to sink his teeth into her neck.

She uses one hand to grasp his hair and pull his head back and swings the stake in her other hand, sinking it into his back all the way into his heart. When he stops moving in her grasp and his skin starts to darken, she pulls the stake out and his body falls to the side in time for her to slam the stake into her new attacker’s chest.

She pants heavily as she pulls it out, looking at the mess around her that had unfolded barely ten minutes ago. The police were going to have a hard time explaining it, that was for sure, but that wasn’t exactly her problem. Four or five vampire bodies lie around her, all dead and she thinks that there was more. They’ve must’ve run off, she thinks, and she doesn’t care to chase them down – not tonight anyways.

“So you’re the one who’s been picking off Marcel’s minions.” A suave voice speaks from behind her. Her body moves on instinct, turning with the stake in hand, slamming the body of the person into the wall. Her hand moves to press the stake into their heart, but she stops just inches from the skin – separated only by a finely tailored suit and a strong hand holding the stake from penetrating further.

“Tell me who the hell you are before I stake ya.” She states flatly, looking over the stranger’s face. It was smooth, nearly clean-shaven, hints of a stubble along his chin. His eyes were a dark brown, staring down into hers with a visible curiosity and slight mischief. He was maybe five inches taller than her with a muscular body she could feel even over the suit, but as she pressed him tighter against the wall, she thought _I can take him_.

“Elijah Mikaelson.” He says and her brow furrows immediately, hold tightening on the stake. She knew of the Mikaelsons, mostly because of Marcel taking over New Orleans but never had she had one at the end of her stake. Now that she had one, she wasn’t sure what to do, but she certainly knew she should keep on her toes.

“All the _more_ reason to stake you.” She remarked, moving her grip from his chest to his shoulder, gripping it tightly. _Elijah_ ’s eyebrows raise and in a few seconds, their positions are reversed – her instead pressed against the wall, stake against her chest and his hand holding it. _Damn it_. She doesn’t struggle against him, just staring into his face with her best defiant expression. He seems amused by this.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He releases the stake and for a moment, it’s like the earth is shifting and she’s entering an alternate universe. She debates as he turns his back whether to take the opportunity and stake him or to trust him, and decides on the latter (it might be the concussion affecting her). He walks a few strides and turns, removing the napkin from his tuxedo and holding it out.

“You’re bleeding.” He remarks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Her eyebrows raise and she reaches her free hand to touch the back of her head, removing it to see a little bit of blood. She sighs, reluctantly taking the napkin and pressing it to the back of her head.

“Thanks, I guess.” She mumbled, stashing her stake in her belt where it had been prior to her fight. “What exactly _are_ you here for then, uh, Elijah?”

“To help you.” He confessed, turning as he adjusts the cuffs on his sleeves. This causes her to scoff, an amusement and disbelief rising within her. A Mikaelson, one of the Oldest Vampires, wanting to _help_ her? That shit had to be a lie. After all, why would he help her kill his own kind?

“And why would you do that?” She questioned, moving to stride past him down the alley. He follows, hands finding their way into his pockets.

“Because I need your help.”

The words are a little more stunning than his last and a sense of both pride and power swells within her. A _Mikaelson_ needed _her_ help? Hell, she didn’t even know they knew she existed. Then again, one couldn’t exactly go around killing vampirekind and not gain a reputation. It left her in a unique position, she realized, to ask whatever she wanted in exchange for this help, or to even reject him outright.

“Thanks, _but no thanks_. Not a big fan of your younger brother – strikes me as a dickhead.” She remarks, continuing to walk away from him. He pauses, a small smile coming to his lips at the vulgarity and cadence of her words, then reappears in front of her, stopping her in her path effectively.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” He offers, dark eyebrows raising.

“What are you offering?”

“And how exactly is a gym worth my while?” She asks as all the lights in the building come on and Elijah’s steps stop at the center of the room, in front of a small boxing ring. The building was run-down, some of the windows broken, and the brick painted with graffiti that she didn’t understand. The main focus of the room was a small boxing ring with pads on each corner while there was other devices like punching bags, a row of hooks with a few gloves hanging from them, and a speedbag in the corner.

“I’m going to train you.” He strides towards her, circling her like an animal does it’s prey right before it kills. “You’re athletic and you have decent technique but you need to be better for what you’ll be up against. I can help you improve your technique and reduce injuries to next to none.”

As if on cue, the back of her head throbs and she groans, touching the spot again. She considered it – briefly imagining them in a Mr. Miyagi and Karate Kid situation, which brought a few giggles to the surface. While it was true that she’d trained herself in vampire killing and it had always been that way, she supposed that a little training from someone more experienced couldn’t hurt.

“Sure, Mr. Miyagi, but Karate Kid needs her rest. See you back here tomorrow.” She concluded, suddenly feeling _utterly_ exhausted. Then again, she had spent most of the night killing vampires. _Normal_ human beings slept at night or, in some cases, were vampire prime rib. She was debating if she really _wanted_ to be a normal human being when she heard Elijah to call out to her.

“I didn’t get your name.” He says, though the statement is almost non-committal. Like he already knows and just wants her to say it. Briefly, she wonders if Marcel’s vampires knew who she was and her name had been on their tongues, but pushes the thought away.

“Diana.” She answers as she leaves, waving goodbye to the Original.

* * *

She groaned as she awoke the next morning, the light filtering in through the window of her studio apartment. Her head was _pounding_ , a reminder of the vampire killing she did the night before and the first thing she did was stumble into her bathroom and retrieve a painkiller from her medicine cabinet, chasing it with a tall glass of water. Sighing as she waited for the painkiller to work, she continued her daily routine, starting her coffee pot, but said routine was interrupted by the sound of a knock on her door.

Was she expecting company? Not that she knew of...still, maybe her landlord wanted something or her neighbor needed sugar. She kind of hoped not because she didn’t know if she had sugar. Glancing down at her current attire (an over-sized boyfriend tee and _very_ short shorts), she decided she was proper enough to answer the door. She walked over to the door, unlocking her deadbolt and swinging it open.

“Good morning.” The same suave voice from the night before greeted her. Maybe she was so tired she was still dreaming or _maybe_ that was Elijah Mikaelson, standing on her doorstep with a coffee and a bag of...donuts? She raised her dark eyebrows in visible confusion as he tried offering a friendly smile.

“ _Okay_ , stalker, how’d you find out where I live?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest. He feigns hurt, scoffing a little.

“I followed you home last night after our introduction. Made sure you got in safely. You _were_ bleeding.” He remarks, holding up the coffee in offering. Now that she thought back, she had sworn she’d felt someone following her but wasn’t sure. Then again, she was in a lot of pain last night and was pretty sure she’d gotten a minor concussion.

She reaches out and takes the coffee from him as well as the bag of donuts, but doesn’t invite him in. She sets the bag down on the counter, removes one and bites into it then takes a sip of the coffee. _Not bad_ , actually, it was really good. She grabbed one of her kitchen chairs and dragged it over to sit across from the door and sat in it.

“Still don’t trust me?” He mused, leaning on the doorway. “I think it’s wise.”

“Yeah.” She says, taking another bite of the donut. “I try not to make it a habit of trusting people who could kill me.”

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” _Oh wow, comforting_ , she thinks as she finishes the one donut. Still, he had a point. He had the opportunity to kill her last night and instead, had offered to train her, to make her _better_ at what she did. It still struck her as a little odd, but it was plain to see that at the very least, he could be trusted not to kill her.

“Come in then.” She gestures to a chair across the room and Elijah enters, taking a look around the room. It’s a small alcove apartment, her bed tucked away in the furthest corner behind the wall so he couldn’t even see it from the door (smart). She had very few furnishings and the ones she did have were sparse, almost scattered throughout the room with no rhyme or reason. It was obvious she didn’t use them much. Her kitchen was mostly clean, save for the dishes stacked in the sink.

“Sorry about the mess.” She remarks, standing from the chair to close the door behind him as she finishes another donut. “I actually don’t spend a lot of time here besides sleeping because ‘y know vampire killing.”

“It’s...comfortable.” He noted, eyes falling to the dishes in the sink and then back to her. She got up onto the counter, sipping on the coffee he’d gotten for her and a small smile came to his lips. _Humans_.

“I would offer you a drink but I don’t exactly keep human blood around, so…” She awkwardly glances to her fridge and then to him. He shakes his head.

“No, no, that’s quite alright. I actually came here to reaffirm our agreement.” He clarifies as he steps forward and she raises her brows.

“Reaffirm?” Cue a small scoff as she sets the coffee he’d brought aside. “Listen, Mr. Miyagi-”

“Elijah.”

“Yeah, whatever. I kill vampires, you want to train me to get better at that. I don’t care what your _stake_ is in it, but believe me, if you stab me in the back, I can and I will make sure you go down with me.” The words are said with an intense seriousness, one that Elijah wouldn’t think to come from an amateur. Perhaps she was more experienced than he thought.

“I’ll hold you to it.”


	2. Getting Closer

_And in the end,_

_I will seek you  
Out amongst  
The stars._

_The space dust  
Of me will_

_Whisper_

“ _I love you”_

_Into the infinity_

_Of the universe._

_-d.j._

Work sucked, as it always did, to the point that she nearly didn’t _want_ to train, but she knew she had to. Not only was she the only vampire hunter in town (that she knew of anyway), she really needed to get better at this. There had been more near misses in the past month than she cared to admit—ever since Marcel had begun allowing witches to be killed. A frown came to her lips at the thought, though she pushed the thought away as she neared the gym that Elijah had showed her yesterday.

“All slay, no heart.” She tells herself as she pauses on the stoop before opening the steel door to enter. Elijah was already there and _not_ surprisingly, dressed in his usual suit and tie, standing in the center of the boxing ring. He turned upon her entry, a smile present on his lips. She strode to the row of hooks on the side of the room, shrugging out of her jacket, revealing her uniform underneath. Elijah quirked a brow at this.

“Waiting tables and slaying vampires?” He asks, amusement evident in his tone. She rolls her eyes as she approaches the ring, using the ropes to pull herself up. She pushed the center rope down and stepped over it to get inside, standing to her full height once inside. Elijah looked over her in her light pink waitress uniform, visibly amused by the stark contrast to her _personality_.

“Gotta pay the bills somehow.” She got into a fighting stance. “We gonna do this or what?”

“Do you require a more... _comfortable_ outfit?” He asks, brows raising.

“If you think this is the first time I’ve fought in this thing, you’re wrong.” She replies, scoffing, “I’m fine.”

“As you wish.” He says then adjusts his own stance, though only shifting his weight and holding a hand out. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“Excuse me?” She demands, her face contorting in visible confusion.

“I cannot teach you if I don’t know the extent of your abilities.” He gestures in a _come_ motion, not unlike those seen in cheesy kung-fu movies. “So show me.”

She nods and looks him up and down, searching for an opening in his stance. There really _wasn’t_ one, necessarily, especially considering how strong he was. She debated how best to go about this, while still remaining focused upon him. He took this opportunity to move, quickly, surging forward. She stepped back, putting a hand up to block and stopping his fist in front of her face (although he hadn’t _really_ planned on hitting her in the face). She closed her hand around his, pushing it to the side and going for a straight punch to the face.

He ducked to the side, freeing his hand in the process, but she kept up her barrage; continuing to swing until he was backed into a corner. He allowed this, remaining calm as his back pressed into the padding of the corner. She took a step back from him, though kept her arms up, preparing for a comeback from him.

“Now what? I’m cornered prey.” He says, focusing on her face. “How will you do it?”

She considers for a moment then moves forward, a hand pressing against his chest to hold him as her other hand acts in a stabbing motion (if she had a stake, this would make sense). He grabs her hand and uses his foot to trip her in the same moment. They both tumble to the ground, him on top of her, still holding her hand and she groans as she falls, though her head doesn’t make contact with the canvas as his hand stops it.

She pants beneath him, covered in a thin sheen of sweat—whether it was the temperature or fighting an original, she seemed to be working up more of a sweat. She stares up into his face, which has changed from it’s usual stoic to one...well, she isn’t sure exactly of what. Perhaps if she knew him better she might know.

“Be aware of your surroundings...and of any tricks your enemy may have up their sleeve.” He releases the back of her head, standing up and offering her a hand. “Every creature doesn’t want to die...and will fight to live.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She mumbles, grabbing his hand and letting him pull her up. He smiles though as they separate.

“You have good hand-to-hand combat skills for being self-taught.” He remarks, straightening his suit, tie and cuffs.

“How can you tell I’m self-taught?” She retorts.

“I’m centuries old. I’ve seen a lot of combat. I know the difference.” He explains. “Since I’m already aware of your proficiency with weapons, we can get right to it.”

“Can you tell that’s self-taught too?” She asks, but only receives a chuckle in return.

She doesn’t know how many hours they spent training, if you could call him throwing her around like a ragdoll training. She knew it was late when he finally decided they were done for that night and she began to pack her things. Still, he hadn’t left yet, almost as if he were waiting for _something_.

“What is it?” She asks as she puts her coat on, swiping at her brow.

“Pardon if this is too forward...and feel free to decline.” He begins, a hand idly entering his pocket. Was he nervous? Could vampires even get nervous? “Would you like to get a drink together? You did well today.”

“In case you forgot, I don’t drink human.” She retorts with a small laugh, which he chuckles at.

“Surely you know that’s not what I meant.”

She debates for a moment, considering if it was really a good idea to go get a drink with a vampire, let alone an _original_ vampire. Then again, he was literally training her to kill his kind _and_ had done nothing to her. There was this...charm to him that really drew her in. An odd sort of nobility, she supposed. _And_ she didn’t have to work tomorrow.

“Sure, but you’re paying.”

“Of course.”

* * *

“They named me after Wonder Woman...’y know _Diana Prince_. They thought I’d be like…” A hiccup interrupts her sentence and she chuckles a little. “A great warrior or something someday, I guess.”

“They’re not wrong.” Elijah muses across from her, pretending to nurse his own drink for the sake of normalcy.

A scoff follows as she runs a hand through her long dark hair and then over her face. She was a _little_ exhausted but mostly just the implication that she was some great warrior made her a little uncomfortable. The very mention made the ghosts of the past, of those she couldn’t save, come to mind and it made her bitter.

“I’m really not.” She replies, running her finger over the rim of her shot glass. “I’m just...a girl slaying vampires, that’s all.”

“Slaying vampires is a difficult task for most and many die in the process.” He says, a frown forming on his lips. “You need to give yourself more credit.”

“This coming from an _original_ vampire.” She says, unable to hide the bitter tone in her voice. A hint of hurt crosses his face and he covers it up quickly, though not before she can see it. She sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...nevermind. I’m gonna go home.”

She stands out of her chair, grabbing her coat and throwing it over her shoulders, heading for the door. Elijah stands and quickly follows, tossing a bill onto the table as he does so. She enters the cool night air and feels her buzz begin to dull, though she’s immediately regretting it in the first place.

_What was she thinking? Just talking about superheroes with an Original vampire over drinks?_

As she makes her way down the sidewalk, she starts to realize that she maybe drank a little more than she thought and pauses briefly to try to regain herself. A hand grasps his shoulder and she turns on instinct, delivering a punch to the center of the person’s face. It’s only after she does so that she realizes her mistake—watching Elijah wrinkle his face in confusion and slight pain then look at her, simultaneously confused and amused.

“I…” She starts, pointing at him. “You deserved that for coming up behind me like that.”

“Valid.” He nods.

“Come to follow me home again?”

“An escort might be better in your condition.”


End file.
